Rise Of The Nephilim

They walked down the winding hallway, sloping lower with each step. The further they walked, the more cave-like, cold, and dark the hallways became.

They reached the end of one hallway and another began, separated by a thick, metal gate. Maxine peered through the bars. Fear ran through her, for she could sense the foulness of it.

Haman tried to open the gate but failed when the two Epochs guarding it had abruptly crossed their swords in front of it. The Nephilim looked at each other. Gaden and Haman, standing next to each other, were somehow able to communicate what they had to do. They had to kill the Epochs if they wanted to go through the gates.

As one, Gaden and Haman plunged their weapons hard into the stomachs of the surprised Epochs. They watched them convulse, dying. When they wrenched their blades free, the Epochs fell hard to the ground.

“I think we are as good as dead,” Silla said.

This was not supposed to happen, Maxine thought. Taking lives was never a part of the plan.

Maxine retrieved the long skeleton key that hung loosely from a leather waistband around the Epoch’s waist. She quickly opened the large metal lock. The gate squeaked when she pushed it open.

A waft of air blew through her, bringing with it the stench of decay.“Come on. Let’s hurry,” she said, venturing farther down the narrow hallway, the others following closely behind.

The deeper they ventured in, the darker it became, forcing their now brightly lit gray eyes to adjust to their new nocturnal environment. The air became staler and more rancid, making it harder to breathe.

“For heaven sakes, what is that stench?” Shian asked, her hand covering her nose.

They could hear inarticulate sounds of faint wailing and screeching, echoing through the walls.

“What the hell is that?” Silla asked, keeping as close as possible to the others.

Shian struggled with her words. “This was probably a mistake,” she said, her face marred with worry.

“Shh, quiet,” Gaden whispered. “We don’t want to alarm the Imps.”

Maxine asked, “Does anyone know where the ovens are?”

“No,” Haman answered. “None of us have ever been down here before.”

“It’s like hell,” Silla chimed in. “We either come here to die, or our bodies are disposed of in the fires.”

Silence surrounded them, but in their minds, they had each held a single thought; we’ve come here to die.

Terrifying screeching noises filled the darkness, followed by long stretches of silence.

“Zeda!” Maxine shouted.

The sound of feet shuffling quickly across the damp ground struck fear even deeper into their hearts. They grouped together in a circle, their backs to each other, weapons gripped firmly in their hands, eyes alert, adrenaline pumping rapidly through their veins

“We’re as good as dead,” Gaden mumbled.

“We must find Zeda,” Maxine insisted.

“Zeda is probably dead by now,” Haman said. “We need to worry about our own survival now.”

“I knew this wouldn’t turn out well,” Silla said.

Shian managed to squeeze out, “I second that.”

“Thousands of years and this is how it ends?” Gaden said, his sword at the ready.

The quick shuffling of feet ceased. However, the sound of heavy breathing, the clawing on stones, and the guttural grunting surrounded them. They were being quickly corralled for the slaughter.

Maxine felt her entire body tremble. But she knew that if she were to survive, she could not allow fear to consume her. She steeled herself, held her sword with both hands in a fighting stance, and focused her eyes on the darkness.

Terrifying shrieks filled the air once more, forcing them to relinquish their weapons when they raised their hands over their ears.

The Imps drew closer and closer. Saliva dripped away from their rotting mouths as they imagined the taste of the blood they would soon devour and the Nephilim flesh they would soon rip apart.

As though out of nowhere, the Epoch who’d challenged Maxine earlier during the day placed himself in front of her, sword in hand, as a shield between she and the Imps.

A blast of air washed over them, and Āmand appeared from the dark. He curved around and down, his wings expanded with their razor edges cutting clear into the Imps, dismantling whatever limbs they touched.

Maxine had managed to retrieve the sword that had fallen in front of her. She looked behind and saw the others clutching their weapons, knuckles white, their eyes wide and glassy. She swallowed hard and, turning to face the others, screamed a war cry. With that, she ran after Āmand and the Epoch as they waded into the fray. Imps.

At the end of it, Shian lay dying, her throat half-bitten away in the chaos. Bloodied, raw flesh hung from parts of Silla’s, Gaden’s, and Haman’s bodies, and Maxine lay unconscious, blood seeping away from the torn clothing and clawed flesh on her abdomen.

Āmand stood in front of the remaining Imps, his wings extended, his arms out to the sides. His head snapped back, and he screamed at the horrors before him: “Return to the hell from which you came!”

He stood firm as the Imps disappeared back into the darkness. Sadness overwhelmed him as he looked at his Nephilim laying bloodied on the ground. He felt his body tense up as his sadness turned to fury.

He ordered the Epochs to gather Silla, Haman, and Gaden and take them to the infirmary, while he scooped Maxine into his arms and flew out of the cave, leaving Shian’s lifeless body to appease the Imps.